Peggy in Her Blue Frock
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Eliza Orne White >> Peggy in Her Blue Frock
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"You are the same old Peggy," said Miss Rand, and Peggy was so grateful
to her for not saying how tall she had grown that she stopped and told
her all about Lady Jane and how she lived first at one house and then at
the other; for Miss Rand had a heart for cats, and it was a trial to her
that Mrs. Horton would never have one.
Speaking of Lady Jane, Peggy had an awful feeling that she had slipped
out of the kitchen door when old Michael came in. "I didn't see her
after he left when I went into the kitchen for a drink of water," said
Peggy. "Wouldn't that be too bad?"
"It would be nice for Diana to have a little visit from her," said Miss
Rand.
"Do you know Diana?"
"Yes, I used to teach in a school near where they lived. She came to
school when she was well enough, and when she wasn't I gave her lessons
at home. She is a dear child."
But Peggy was getting too impatient to see Clara to stop to hear more
about Diana. So she went through the wide hall and out of the other door
to the brick terrace and down the steps that led to the formal garden
and the orchard beyond. A peacock was strutting about as if he owned the
place. His tail looked so very beautiful that Peggy felt a little
envious. "I wish people could wear ready-made clothes as lovely as his,"
she thought. "They are much nicer than my blue frocks, and they can
never get spoiled."
She ran quickly along past the pool, where the water-lilies would
blossom later on, to the orchard. In one of the nearest apple trees
there was a platform built around it with a flight of steps leading up
to it. It was what the children called the apple tree house. Here Clara
and Alice were playing dolls. Peggy could seldom be induced to play
dolls. She ran up the steps and made a dash for Clara. Clara, in a lilac
frock, was sitting primly on one of the wooden chairs with which the
platform was furnished. Her hair was a darker brown than Alice's, and
her face had the pallor of the city child who has lived indoors all
winter. She was rather a stiff little girl in her manners, and however
glad she might feel inside at seeing Peggy again, she did not show it.
She submitted to being kissed and hugged gravely as if she were taking a
doctor's prescription, and she kissed Peggy's cheek with a gentle peck.
"Dear me, but you have grown a lot," said Clara.
"Well, I can't help it if I have," said Peggy.
She felt cross and a little hurt because Clara had not seemed any more
glad to see her when she had been just crazy to see Clara. Miss Rand had
been delighted to see her, and even Mrs. Horton had seemed more glad
than Clara. Only the peacock and Clara had seemed proud. Perhaps Clara
had been afraid Peggy would rumple her dress. It was a very lovely
shimmery dress with smocking. Peggy liked dresses that were smocked. She
seated herself on a branch of the apple tree and began to swing back and
forth. She was never shy herself, so it did not occur to her that Clara
was shy. There did not seem to be anything to say, and it seemed a long,
long time, since Thanksgiving Day, when she had last seen Clara, and as
if they would have to get acquainted all over again.
"Did you have a nice journey?" said Peggy.
"No, horrid! I'm always car-sick. Father's coming for us and we are
going back in the automobile."
"That will be great fun," said Peggy.
"It will be better than the train," said Clara, "but it's a long ride,
and I always get awfully tired."
"Do you?" said Peggy, swinging back and forth again.
"How long your legs are," said Clara.
Peggy stopped short in her swinging. "If you say anything about my legs
I shall go crazy," she announced. Then she climbed as high in the apple
tree as she could get and dared them to come and join her. "Come up into
my house, you short-legged people," she called down. "I have a room in a
tower and there are windows in it, and I can see all over the place.
Come up here--why don't you come?"
"Don't be cross, Peggy," said Alice. "You know I am scared to, and Clara
would spoil her dress if she climbed up there."
"What are dresses for if you can't climb trees in them?" Peggy called
down.
"I wish I had a frock like yours, it is such a pretty color," said
Clara, who always liked other people's things better than her own.
The compliment to her dress restored Peggy's good humor. She was very
seldom cross, and she felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. So she
condescended to play dolls with Clara and Alice, and there was no fun so
great as to have Peggy play dolls. She put them through such adventures
and made them have such narrow escapes that the little mothers were
positively thrilled. So it was a very happy afternoon for every one,
even for Miss Rand, who came out just before it was time for the
children to go home, with a tray on which there was a pitcher of
something nice and cold that tasted of orange, and some small doughnuts.
Miss Rand sat down on an apple branch, which seat she preferred to a
chair, and she sang for them, at Peggy's request, some Scotch songs, in
a sweet contralto voice.
"It has been a nice afternoon," said Peggy, as she kissed Clara
good-bye, and this time Clara gave her a most responsive kiss.
CHAPTER VI
DIANA
Peggy did not think of Lady Jane again until supper-time, when Mrs. Owen
said to Alice, "I've warmed some milk for the cat. It is in the blue
pitcher; you can turn it into her saucer."
Peggy kept very still. She hoped against hope that her furry little gray
friend would come at the sound of her name. "I can't find her anywhere,
mother," said Alice.
"I haven't seen her all the afternoon, now I think of it," said Mrs.
Owen. "Did you see her, Peggy? Do you suppose she could have slipped out
when Michael Farrell came in?"
"I am afraid she did, mother," said Peggy.
"Well, Peggy Owen," said Alice, "I never knew any one as careless as you
are. You ought to be punished."
"You are not my mother," said Peggy.
"It is a very serious matter," and Alice gave a wise shake to her small
head. "It is the second time you've let her get out."
"Well," said Mrs. Owen, "if she is so anxious to live at the other house
and they want to keep her, suppose we let them have her? The other day
when I called, Mrs. Carter told me how fond her little girl was of her,
and the child hasn't been well."
"Give up Lady Jane!" cried Peggy in dismay.
"Mother, what are you thinking of!" said Alice. "She's one of the
family. Would you give me up if I kept going back to the Carters'?"
"Certainly not; but that is entirely different."
"I love Lady Jane just as much as you love me, mother," said Alice.
"That is impossible. Don't talk such nonsense," said her mother.
It seemed an extreme statement, even to Peggy. "Do you love her as much
as you love mother?" she asked.
Alice paused to consider.
"Don't ask her such a trying question, Peggy. She would probably find it
a little less convenient to live without me than without the cat; but if
you children care so much about her you can go and get her. It is too
much to expect them to send her back again."
Mrs. Owen telephoned to Mrs. Carter and found that the cat had been
spending the afternoon with them.
"I won't trouble you to send her back," said Mrs. Owen. "The children
will go for her to-morrow afternoon."
The next day Peggy and Alice could hardly wait to finish their dinner,
they were so eager to go for Lady Jane and get back in time to spend a
long afternoon with Clara. As they came near the Carters' house, they
saw Christopher just coming out of the gate.
"So you are going to take the cat back again?" he said disapprovingly,
as he looked at the basket.
"She's our cat," Alice said sweetly, but very firmly.
Christopher looked down at Alice, who smiled up at him and showed her
dimples.
"Yes, of course, she is your cat," he said; for nobody could resist
Alice. "But it seems too bad to yank her out every time she comes back
to her old place."
"We've had her a very long time," said Alice. "I can hardly remember
anything before we had her."
"She must be a very old cat," said Christopher, laughing.
It seemed strange to ring the doorbell of their own old house. The front
door was painted green now and it had a shiny brass knocker. The office
door was green, too. It was sad not to see their dear father's name
there any more. "Dr. T. H. Carter" seemed very unnatural. The grass was
beginning to grow green, and the snowdrops and crocuses were in blossom
by the front door. Mrs. Carter opened the door for them herself. She
looked so pleasant that Peggy wanted to kiss her.
"I know you've come for Lady Jane," she said, glancing at the basket.
"She's out calling this afternoon, but I'm sure she'll be in before
long. While you are waiting for her you can go up and see Diana. She is
expecting you. You can go upstairs; she is out on the piazza."
Everything seemed strange and yet familiar about the house. There was a
new paper in the hall, and the floor and the stairs had been done over.
They went out on the upper side piazza, which was glassed in, and here
Diana was lying in a hammock that looked almost like a bed. Peggy loved
Diana the moment she saw her. She had the same friendly face that Mrs.
Carter had. Her hair was a sunshiny brown and so were her eyes, and her
face, too, was a warm color, as if she had been out of doors a great
deal. She had on a pale green wrapper with pink roses and green leaves
embroidered on it. Peggy thought she had never seen anything so sweet in
her life as Diana was, lying there in her green wrapper. She seemed a
part of the pleasant springtime. Peggy noticed a copy of "Alice's
Adventures in Wonderland" lying on the hammock. This was one of her
favorite books, and she began to talk about it at once.
Alice's attention was caught by the sight of a flaxen-haired doll lying
beside Diana in the hammock. "So you like dolls?" Alice said.
"I just love them," said Diana.
"So do I," said Alice.
And Peggy felt quite left out.
"What's her name?" Alice asked.
"Alice."
"That's my name."
"I named her for the 'Wonderland Alice.'"
"Oh, but now she must be my namesake. I'll be her aunt. She can call me
'Aunt Alice.'"
Peggy picked up "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" while Diana and Alice
made friends over the doll.
"Doesn't your sister like to play dolls?" asked Diana.
"No," said Alice, "and I don't see why, for she makes up such exciting
things when she does play. Yesterday when we played with Clara she had
the dolls fly in an aeroplane, and she took them up into the highest
branch of the apple tree."
"Oh, do play with us now," Diana begged.
So Peggy good-naturedly put down her book, and Alice, the doll, had
never had so many exciting adventures in all her young life. They were
so busy playing they did not any of them hear Lady Jane's quiet
footsteps as she climbed the rose trellis. Peggy saw her first, a furry,
gray ball, poised lightly on the piazza rail. Alice saw her give a
spring through the open pane of glass and land on the hammock. She was
giving her joyous tea-kettle purr, and, oh, it was too much to bear, she
was actually licking Diana's hand.
"Darling pussy," said Diana. She held her lovingly against her shoulder,
and stroked her gray back.
Alice could hardly bear it. "Lady Jane, I am here," she said.
But Lady Jane did not stir. Diana moved her into a more comfortable
position, and she curled herself down for a nap.
Alice could bear it no longer. She went over, and, picking her up, she
said, "You are going to stay with me."
But Lady Jane scratched Alice's hands in her desire to escape, and gave
a flying leap back to the hammock.
Peggy almost decided to take her mother's advice and let Diana keep the
cat. She seemed to love her so very much, and to have so much less to
make her happy than they had. It must be hard to lie still instead of
being able to frisk about wherever one pleased. And yet, Diana looked
happy. She didn't see why; she knew she could not be happy if she had to
keep still like that.
"I think we ought to be going now," said Peggy, "because we told Clara
we'd come early. We might leave Lady Jane to make Diana a little visit."
This seemed a good compromise.
"No," said Alice, with decision, "I want to take her back right off
now."
So Peggy helped Alice put the struggling cat into the basket. They shut
the cover down tight, paying no attention to Lady Jane's dismal mews.
"I wish you didn't have to go," said Diana, a little sadly. "Do come
again soon, and perhaps you'll bring Lady Jane with you."
"We'll come again soon," said Peggy.
"Yes," said Alice; and in her own mind she thought, "We'll never, never
bring Lady Jane."
CHAPTER VII
THE CANARY-BIRD
Peggy and Alice had a very happy time the next few days playing with
Clara. Their school had a vacation, too, so the children were able to
spend long hours together, sometimes at one house and sometimes at the
other. They liked better going to see Clara on account of the
tree-house; and Clara liked better going to see them. She liked to come
early and help to make the beds and do the dishes, for she was never
allowed to help about the work at her own house, even now, when they
were supposed to be camping out. The field behind the Owens' house,
where the garden was to be, was a delightful place to play, and so was
the little hill beyond.
The time passed only too quickly, and, at the end of the vacation, Clara
was whisked back to New York with her father and mother and Miss Rand,
this time in an automobile. The children missed her very much at first;
and June, when she would be coming back again, seemed a long way off.
But they soon got interested in the children at school. Peggy liked
school, and she was very fond of her teacher. On the way to school they
passed Mrs. Butler's house. Peggy was always eager to stop and listen
to the canary and have a little talk with Mrs. Butler, but Alice was
always eager to go on for fear they would be late.
Sometimes they saw Mrs. Butler's daughter Flora, starting off for her
work. She was in a milliner's store and wore the prettiest hats. Every
time Peggy went by the milliner's window, she stopped to look at the
hats. She had longed to have a new one for Easter, for her old brown
straw looked so shabby. One day, when she was with her mother and Alice,
she made them cross the street to look at a hat in the window that she
wanted very much. It was a peanut straw with a ribbon of the same color
around it, with long ends. The ribbon had a blue edge, just the color of
Peggy's blue frocks.
"It does seem as if I'd got to have it," said Peggy. "Why should there
be a hat with blue on it, just the color of my dresses, if it wasn't for
me?"
"I wish I could get it for you, Peggy," said her mother. "When my ship
comes in perhaps I will."
"When will it come in, mother?" Alice asked.
"I have not even got a ship--that's the worst of it. However, as we
don't live at the seashore a garden is more useful. If we make the
garden pay perhaps we can all have new hats."
"But they'll be winter hats if we wait for the garden, and I want the
peanut straw," said Peggy.
Flora Butler, who was behind the counter, came to the door and spoke to
them.
"How much is the peanut straw hat?" Peggy asked.
"Peggy, I have told you I can't get the hat for you," said her mother.
"It really is a bargain," said Miss Butler.
"It is a very pretty hat," said Mrs. Owen, "but I am spending more than
I can afford on my garden."
"How's the canary?" Peggy asked.
"He is all right. He will give you a free concert any time you can stop
to hear him."
"It seemed too bad he could not be free like the other birds," Peggy
thought.
And then one day, as they were coming back from school, she saw the
empty cage in the window, and Mrs. Butler, half distracted, was asking
the school-children if any of them had seen her canary-bird. "I don't
know what my husband will say when he comes back from the store for his
dinner, and he finds it gone," she said. "He sets as much store by that
canary as if it was a puppy."
The school-children stood about in an interested group.
"How did it get out?" Peggy asked.
"I was cleaning Sol's cage, as usual, and he was out in the room. The
window was open a little at the top, same as I've had it before once or
twice these spring days, and Sol never took notice. The worst of it is,
my husband told me I hadn't orter keep it open, even a speck, while the
bird was out of his cage. 'Sol can wriggle through the smallest kind of
a crack,' says he; and it appears he was right. My, but he'll be angry!
'Marthy, it'll serve you right,' he'll say."
The children saw Mr. Butler coming down the street, just then, and they
waited in fascinated silence to see what would happen next. One of the
schoolboys, who always loved to make a sensation, called out as he
passed, "Did you know your canary-bird is lost?"
"You don't expect I am going to swallow that yarn, Gilbert Lawson?" the
old man said. "You'd better shut up. 'Taint the first of April."
"But it really and truly has flown away, Mr. Butler," said Peggy.
"Flown away! Did my old woman leave the window open? Marthy, didn't I
tell you what would happen?" he said angrily as he vanished into the
house. They could hear his voice raised louder and louder.
Peggy could see Mrs. Butler putting her handkerchief up to her eyes.
"She's crying," said Peggy in an awed voice. "Oh, let's see if we can't
find the canary-bird."
"Find it!" said Gilbert scornfully. "You might as well look for a needle
in a haymow."
"Perhaps if we put the cage out he'd come back into it," said Peggy.
"Do you suppose anything clever enough to get out of prison would be
fool enough to go back again?" said he. "Well, there seems to be
nothing doing now and I guess I'll go home."
Gilbert and his brother Ralph and the other boys went toward the
village, and so did the girls who lived in that direction. But Peggy and
Alice and Anita Spaulding still lingered.
"I'm going to tell them that I'll come back as soon as dinner is over
and find the bird for them," said Peggy. "I know I can find it."
"Oh, Peggy, maybe mother won't let you come," said Alice.
"She's a sensible mother; I know she'll let me come," said Peggy, as she
ran up the steps.
Mrs. Butler came to the door. Her eyes looked very red and she still
seemed quite upset.
"Oh, Mrs. Butler," said Peggy breathlessly, "I know I can find the
canary-bird--I know I can. I'll come right straight back as soon as I've
had my dinner."
Alice and Peggy ran home and Peggy explained breathlessly about the
canary. "Mother dear, Mrs. Butler has lost Sol; and I know I can find
him. So please give us our dinner quick."
"Who is Sol?" Mrs. Owen asked.
"The canary--I know I can find him. I can tell him by his song, and then
I can climb up and put his cage in a tree and get him back into it."
"He won't come back once he's free: Gilbert says he won't," said Alice.
"Don't you pay any attention to what Gilbert says," said Peggy.
Mrs. Owen was very much interested. "Peggy is right," she said. "I once
knew of a canary-bird that escaped and went back into his old cage. If
you can only find him it is not impossible."
"There, I told you she was a sensible mother," said Peggy.
She could hardly wait to finish her dinner, and thought of going off
without any dessert. But when she found it was rice pudding with
raisins, she changed her mind. The two little girls went so fast to Mrs.
Butler's it was almost like flying.
"We've come to find Sol," said Peggy.
Mr. Butler was just finishing his dinner. "I tell you what," he said,
"I'll give five dollars to any one who'll bring back that canary-bird
safe and sound."
Peggy and Alice went across the street and they ran along until they
thought they had reached a spot that might appeal to Sol. This was the
Thornton place, which was a bower of green with its partly open foliage.
"I'm sure he'll be here," said Peggy. "I'd come here if I were a canary.
Oh, Alice, listen!" From somewhere, far, far above them, there came
delicious trills and the joyous sound that Peggy longed to make herself.
Nothing but a canary could sing like that. "Spring has come and I am
free; and the world is too beautiful for anything," he seemed to say.
"It is Sol; I know his voice," Peggy cried. "It seems 'most too bad to
put him in prison again--only I'm sure he'll be homesick when the dark
night comes."
"And it might rain and get his feathers all draggled," said Alice.
"And perhaps the other birds would be horrid to him because he's so
different," said Peggy. "Anyway, we've got to get him if we can. Look,
Alice!" Far up at the top of the maple tree, the leaves of which were
partly open, was a tiny golden ball, and from its throat came forth the
glad spring song. "Stay and watch him, Alice, while I go over to Mrs.
Butler's and get the cage."
Alice stood rooted to the spot, watching the little creature, like a
yellow sunbeam among the green opening leaves. It seemed a long time
before Peggy came back. Mrs. Butler was with her, creaking along
heavily. She was carrying the cage.
"Of course, he won't come back now he's free," said Mrs. Butler. "Dear
help us, but it's him that's singin'!" she said. "I thought you'd just
mistaken a song sparrow for him." She looked up and saw her favorite in
the tree-top.
Peggy took the cage out of Mrs. Butler's hand.
"I'll climb up," she said, "and I'll leave his house-door open, for he
hasn't any latch-key."
"Well, if that isn't the limit," said Mrs. Butler with a laugh. "To
think of Sol with a latch-key!"
"But I said he didn't have one," said Peggy.
Peggy, in her blue frock, climbed up into the maple tree, and her yellow
hair looked almost as sunshiny as the canary. Mrs. Butler handed the
cage up to her. There was some of the bird's favorite seed in the cage
and water for him to drink.
"I guess he'll go home when he gets hungry," said Peggy.
Mrs. Butler kept laughing to herself and saying over and over, "He
hasn't any latch-key; if that don't beat all."
Peggy scrambled down again, and they all stood waiting to see what would
happen next; and nothing happened. It was very discouraging. Finally
they sat down on the Thorntons' wall to rest.
"Oh, look!" Peggy cried in excitement.
The bird gave a few little hops along the branch and then fluttered down
to a lower perch nearer the cage. The children's eyes grew big with
excitement. Alice jumped down from the wall and ran nearer to the tree
to get a better view. The noise she made startled the bird, and he flew
on to a higher branch.
"There, Alice, see what you've done!" Peggy said.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear!"
They sat still for a long time, and after this Alice did not dare either
to speak or move.
"Well, I guess I'll go home," said Mrs. Butler. "'A watched pot never
boils.' Mebbe you'd like some refreshments as well as Sol. Don't you
want to go home with me and get some lemonade and cake?"
But even this offer could not lure the children from the spot. Peggy was
afraid to go off, even for a moment, for fear the canary would slip in
for a meal and out again before she could close him in. The time passed
slowly. After what seemed hours Mrs. Butler came back and brought them
some cake and lemonade. It tasted very good, but they soon finished it,
and Mrs. Butler went away with the empty dishes, shaking her fist at
Sol.
"You are the most provoking bird," she said, "keeping everybody waiting,
and you so small you could go in one's pocket, if only you hadn't
wings."
Alice lost her patience before Peggy did. "We ought to be going home,"
she said. "Mother'll wonder what has become of us."
"All right, go home if you want to. I'm going to stick right here until
he gets hungry and goes into his house."
"Perhaps I'll come back again," said Alice.
It seemed lonely after Alice had left her. Peggy was tired of keeping
still. She took one run across the Thornton place, but this seemed to
disturb the canary, so she flung herself down on the grass.
"I'll look away while I count a hundred," she said.
She counted a hundred and when she looked back, there was the canary in
his cage, and she had not seen him go in. It was too provoking. She
climbed up, breathless with excitement, and shut the door.
CHAPTER VIII
THE REWARD
Mr. Butler was just coming back from his work as Peggy reached the gate
of his house.
"I've got him," she called triumphantly.
"Bless my soul!" said the old man. "Have you been waiting for him all
this time?"
"Yes," said Peggy
"What a patient little girl you are."
He put his hand in his trousers' pocket and pulled out a roll of bills.
He looked them over until he came to a crisp, new, five-dollar bill
which he handed to Peggy.
Peggy ran all the way home, with the five-dollar bill clasped in her
hand. She had never once thought of the money while she was watching the
canary. He was so beautiful, with his yellow feathers against the
branches of the tree, with the blue sky above him, and his song was so
wonderful, that she had not thought about any reward. But now that she
had the money, she felt as if some one had given her a fortune, for she
had never had so much money at once, in all her short life. Now she
could get the hat, for it did not cost nearly five dollars; and there
would be some money left to buy--what should she buy? Something for
Alice and her mother.
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